


Dress For the Weather

by Lavender_Menace



Series: The Six [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), Caretaking, Crying, Diego Hargreeves Is Oblivious, Diego Hargreeves is a Mother Hen, Fever, Gen, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Insomnia, Introspection, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves is Bad at Taking Care of Himself, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Mentioned Drug Withdrawal, Mentioned Other Hargreeves, No Incest, POV Diego Hargreeves, POV Klaus Hargreeves, Past Drug Use, Sad, Sickfic, The Therapeutic Power of Going For a Walk, This Took a Sharp Left and Accidentally Became a Sickfic, ben is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Menace/pseuds/Lavender_Menace
Summary: "How long would he have stayed up alone and stuck in his own head if Klaus hadn’t knocked on his door? Diego felt alive and present, maybe not happy, but not lost in the way he’d felt for the last few days. Every time he closed his eyes the familiar walls of his childhood room turned white and padded."Diego has a long history of taking care of Klaus, at this point it might as well be an instinct.Klaus and Diego take a walk, and take care of each other in their own way
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: The Six [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925680
Comments: 15
Kudos: 125





	1. Diego and Klaus

**Author's Note:**

> this will have a second chapter from Klaus's POV, it's about halfway finished as of now
> 
> (you don't need to read the first part of the series to understand this fic, just assume that there's no Sparrow Academy and they're all just rattling around the mansion somewhere)

Klaus had never been one to dress for the weather. 

Diego distinctly remembered picking his brother up from a bus station in January, only to find him standing in the snow, smoking and wearing a tank top and hot-pants.

They had been twenty two years old, and Diego remembered wondering aloud how Klaus hadn’t died of hypothermia yet—Klaus had simply shivered in the passenger’s seat of Diego’s car, and asked if Diego wanted a puff of his cigarette. 

So when Klaus and Allison burst into the Academy soaking wet and carrying groceries on April 4th 2019 Diego wasn’t at all surprised to see that Klaus had elected to wear a sleeveless shirt, or that he was shivering.

At least this time he was wearing shoes. 

When they’d all left the academy (run away) Diego had been the one who’d kept tabs on Klaus, who’d had some vague idea of where he was during those first two years of spiraling drug addiction and homelessness. He’d encouraged his brother to sleep at his apartment—which at that time had been a moldy hole-in-the-wall with a half-bathroom and no stove—and given Klaus food every time that they ran into one another.

Diego had been struggling too, but for all that Luther went on about family and responsibility, Diego had been the one who really felt that being a family _meant_ responsibility. 

He was the one who felt that family meant loving each other, and that the duty love entailed was trying to help one another. 

Out of the seven (six) (five) of them he’d been the only one to think so. 

Eventually he’d become worn out. Klaus was more stubborn than of them had ever given him credit for, and even more self-destructive than they could have imagined. After being called time after time to pick his brother up from emergency rooms, or worse, police stations, with no improvement and ever worsening-shadows beneath Klaus’s eyes Diego finally had enough.

He’d tried to be calm yet firm as he’d told Klaus to take him off of his emergency contact list, but when Klaus had started crying Diego had started yelling.

And Klaus had still called him, still listed Diego as his only family, his only living connection to the world. 

Eventually Diego had gotten rid of his cell phone entirely. He’d claimed that he didn’t need it and that the monthly bill was a waste of resources.

He saw Klaus less and less after that. 

Still in those early years he’d been the one to learn his brother’s bad habits, the one to wrap him in blankets and wipe blood from his face. He’d been the one to offer a shower and a bag of frozen (and refrozen) (and refrozen again) peas to put on his bruises. In the cold light of morning Diego had been the one to glance down alleys as he walked to work, the one to keep gatorade and dinosaur egg instant oatmeal in his cupboards to ply Klaus with after he’d picked him up from the hospital. 

Those days were long gone, and the habits mostly broken (his and Klaus’s) but some things had been repeated to the point of instinct. As Allison walked away to put away the groceries Diego had listened to Klaus’s teeth chatter and unthinkingly pulled his brother by the hand up the stairs. 

“Why are you soaking wet dude? What the hell?”

“Allie was holding the groceries, so I held the umbrella.” Usually when Klaus was high Diego was able to tell, not through some fantastic brotherly instinct, but via a series of cues. He might not have been able to tell when a random person was sober or not, but Klaus had his own specific tells and Diego had eventually learned to look for them. Blown pupils, oddly calm demeanor, steady hands, and a light slurring voice—he’d always favored downers, saving his use of stimulants for parties and other special occasions. Even when he’d been on a relatively low dose of whatever poison he’d put into his body, Klaus’ voice had always gained a sort of floaty ungrounded quality. 

So at that moment, even though his words were flippant and overly cheerful Diego comforted himself with the reassurance that Klaus was still sober. He was just weird like that.

“And you didn’t hold the umbrella over your head too?” 

“There wasn’t room, I didn’t want the groceries to get wet.” As though that was a reasonable explanation for his actions. Really Diego shouldn’t have expected anything else.

It was just like Klaus.

If he'd been left to his own devices Diego wondered if his brother would have even thought of drying off or getting into clean clothes. Klaus was good at surviving, but sometimes neglected his own comfort as if the thought didn't even occur to him. Usually he would eventually seek our food or warmth, but only after sitting around and muttering to himself for a while. 

Now that Ben was well and truly gone Diego wondered how often Klaus would simply forget to care for himself, he imagined that Ben had been instrumental in Klaus's survival over the twelve years that they'd been on their own. The thought was sobering.

He gripped Klaus's hand tighter as they reached the top of the stairs and led him through the hall, Klaus dripping all the way. As they passed the linen closet Diego grabbed a bath towel and threw it at his shivering brother before shoving him into his bedroom.

"Get yourself dried off before you freeze to death." He slammed the door.

"Diego you're so _mean_!"

-*-*-*-

At 2:00 am April 5th 2019 Diego heard a knock on his bedroom door.

Diego had always been a night owl, too busy training, practicing his speech, worrying, or prowling the streets looking for crime to fight to bother going to sleep at a reasonable hour. He had never needed much sleep and it was a quirk that had served him well over the years.

When Reginald had been alive he had either sat up in the dark, utilizing whatever light spilled in through the drawn curtains of his window, or crouched under his blankets with a flashlight. Once Diego had moved out he had graduated to leaving the light on and turning it off whenever he felt ready to sleep, and he had relished that freedom. 

Now Reginald was dead, and at 2:00 am in his bedroom at the Umbrella Academy Diego had his lights on.

And there was a knock on his bedroom door.

“Hey Diego, are you awake?” Diego rolled over, shoving his messy cross-stitch under the pillow.

“Yeah?” After a few moments of waiting in silence for the door to open and his brother to barge in Diego sait up, legs swinging over the side of the bed. He walked to the door and peeked through. “What do you want Klaus?”

“I can’t sleep.” And wasn’t that a blast from the past? Diego could remember Klaus whispering that exact phrase through his cracked door before they even had names. When they’d been tiny and afraid, before Klaus had hardened himself, when Diego stuttered out every painful word that crossed his young angry mind.

_W-what do you ex-ex-expect me to do about it?_

“Yeah? You okay?” Diego watched his brother deflate, the bravado and pizazz of the day giving way to defeated exhaustion in the privacy of night. Diego remembered his brother towering over him and still seeming so _so_ small as he stumbled into Diego's room after a training session with Reginald. 

No matter how late he got back Diego was always awake.

And eventually Diego had gotten his growth spurt. 

Klaus was still taller than him, and at times like this he still seemed so small. 

“I’m okay,” Klaus lied, his hand going up to fiddle with the dog tags that still laid around his neck _goodbye_. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

And that is different. 

Where they were children, here, at the Academy, they would have had to carefully sneak out if they were to leave the building unsupervised. It was the sort of thing that would have taken a week of planning at minimum, and such an opportunity certainly could never be squandered for something as purposeless as _a walk_. Diego nodded his head and turned to tug his leather jacket on over his sweats. He noticed that Klaus was still wearing day-clothes, although he had at least shed the soaked orange and red ensemble from before. 

This outfit didn’t look very warm, but it had sleeves, and at least the rain had stopped.

-+-+-+-+

Outside the streetlights and neon signs of the city reflected off of the damp pavement. Klaus was surefooted as he led them down the street, dodging puddles and garbage with absentminded grace. Diego followed silently like a shadow.

He wondered if he was filling in for Ben, trailing after Klaus as he wandered the city streets at night. It seemed more likely that he was there as a chaperone, providing unspoken help as his brother continued his efforts to stay sober. 

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Diego sped up until he was walking beside Klaus.

"Where are we going?" He asked, attempting to meet his brother's eyes. For a moment Klaus said nothing, his expression thoughtful.

"Do you think Griddy's still burned down in this timeline?" Klaus’s face was lined with exhaustion, and his long hair obviously needed a wash, but his smile was the same as ever; wry, wide, warm. Griddy’s was a fond memory in a sea of regret and trauma, and Diego was struck by a sudden longing for strong coffee and homemade donuts. 

“I don’t know.” He said, trying to match Klaus’s easy smile. To him it felt forced but Klaus didn’t comment. Around them the wind picked up again and Diego shivered. “Let’s go see.” 

They picked up the pace, walking side by side and hopping over puddles like they were still thirteen. Diego rationalized to himself that he at least looked more dignified now.

Klaus did not.

Cars rushed past them and dark alleyways drew both of their eyes for different reasons, after a few blocks Diego began to think that maybe his brother was watching out for him as much as he was chaperoning and guarding Klaus.

The cool damp air felt good in his lungs, sharp and alive in a way that the heavy dusty air of the Academy didn’t. 

How long would he have stayed up alone and stuck in his own head if Klaus hadn’t knocked on his door? Diego felt alive and present, maybe not happy, but not lost in the way he’d felt for the last few days. He knew that everyone was having a hard time—it was obvious in the tone of Vanya’s newly emotive voice, the worrying of Allison’t hands, Five’s haunted eyes and the hunch of Luther’s solemn shoulders— but he felt the weight of the last six months profoundly. Every time he closed his eyes the familiar walls of his childhood room turned white and padded. 

He saw Lila in every shadow. 

She was out there somewhere and Diego knew that one day he would see her again, she wasn’t the sort of person to just leave things alone.

And in the moment Diego was 30 years old, he had the power to deflect bullets, he’d taken part in a rebellion against his ex-girlfriend’s crazy adoptive mother, he had a family who was still with him despite the hell they’d all been through, he was walking outside the Academy at night without Reginald Hargreeves’s metaphorical ghost hovering over him, he had Klaus by his side, and Diego felt strong.

As it turned down Griddy’s was still standing, but it was closed. 

Diego and Klaus stood in front of the darkened building, just in front of the locked doors. Through the shadowed glass Diego could see every piece of tacky restaurant furniture still intact, but no one was there. -

Fair enough. 

At that point it was just past 3:00 and any sane business person would have closed long ago. Even in the city that never slept the hours between 3:00 and 6:00 were usually fairly quiet, the roar of traffic dulled to a trickle as the last of the bars closed and all that were left were a few greasy all-night restaurants.

“Do you want to get pizza?” Diego suggested, shivering as another damp breeze cut through the fabric of his sweatpants. Klaus didn’t seem cold at all, standing there in the dark in thin fabric without even a jacket. 

“I’m lactose intolerant.” Klaus said.

“Oh right.” They continued to stand in silence, eyes meeting in their reflections against the dark glass of Griddy’s door.

“I know a bagel place that opens in an hour.” Klaus suggested, rocking back on his heels.

The shadows around his eyes looked more dramatic in the darkness of the street. For a moment Diego felt a fleeting fear that if he took his eyes away from his brother Klaus would melt back into some alleyway or around a shadowed corner and Diego would lose him again. 

“Let’s just go home.” Back into the light and the warmth of the academy walls. Mom was most likely resting but their kitchen had been fully stocked that afternoon and between Diego and Klaus they would probably be able to put together a couple of bowls of cereal and maybe some tea.

Diego wondered if Klaus had bought dinosaur egg oatmeal.

He didn’t even know if his brother still liked it. 

Klaus nodded, following after him as he led them back down the street. Under their feet the wet concrete made a gritty sound and Diego could imagine how the puddles were beginning to turn gray and brown as the dirt that coated the sidewalks was pulled up into the water. The dark hid the transition well but it was still happening unseen beneath the soles of their shoes. 

“Can we stop at the convenience store and buy snacks?” Klaus interrupted the murmur of the dozing city with a murmur of his own, and Diego slowed his pace.

“Sure.” 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

By the time that they made it back to academy the streets were blanketed in a thick cold fog, and their hands were clutched around bags full of candies and snacks. Diego once again felt like he was twelve again. Immediately Klaus draped himself over a chair at the kitchen table and poured his bag of junk food out onto the table like a kid who’d just returned from trick-or-treating. 

Diego sat too, but left his bag upright. He pulled out and opened a bag of jerky. 

Across from him Klaus continued to arrange his spoils but opened nothing, apparently content just to see to see and touch his hoard. He slowly turned each item over in his hands as he laid it on the table, scanning the designs on the packaging. 

With the lights on in the kitchen Diego was able to get a good look at this brother for the first time since that afternoon. 

Klaus didn’t really look great. 

The shadows beneath his eyes were still present, deep and purple-ish, and the eyes themselves were glassy. Diego wondered if he’d been crying. It had been hard to tell after Reginald had soundproofed Klaus’s room. 

As Klaus continued to examine his snacks, muttering inaudibly—presumably to himself—Diego watched his brother, noting the bright spots on his otherwise pale cheeks as well as the sheen of sweat that glistened on his forehead. 

It could just be a result of the cold dark weather.

Klaus could potentially be experiencing a withdrawal.

Or he could be running a fever after spending his day running out in the rain.

“Dude, you know you look awful?” Diego said gracelessly, interrupting his brother’s murmured monologue.

“Oh gee _thanks_ Diego.” Klaus replied, rolling his eyes. “You always flatter me so-”

Diego frowned, leaning forward across the table and resting a hand against Klaus’s face. To his credit Klaus barely flinched and recovered well, pausing to look at Diego with a curious expression. 

“I think you’re running a fever.” Diego said, pulling away. It was still possible that Klaus was withdrawing but Diego had seen that happen enough times to know that Klaus would usually be shaking and vomiting by now if that was the case. If he were withdrawing Diego knew that he would also be experiencing the wonders of tachycardia and perhaps dangerously high blood pressure.

“Oh…” Klaus murmured, running his hands over his upper arms slowly. Diego wondered if it was a self-soothing method. “That makes sense.” 

Diego looked at his brother thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t cold.” He replied. Klaus shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to explain beyond that. 

Diego nodded, understanding. They’d spent a solid hour walking the streets in damp frigid weather, and while Diego had been visibly bothered by the temperature Klaus hadn’t complained once. He hadn’t even been shivering. The few times that Diego had seen Klaus run a fever he hadn’t started shaking until things got bad. Now whatever illness he’d managed to contract was still digging its claws into him and Klaus actually felt the heat.

He looked so tired. 

After a beat of silence Diego stood, straightening before pushing Klaus’s collection of junk food back into the plastic bag from which it came. It was easy enough to ignore Klaus whining as he circled the kitchen table to stand in front of his brother. 

“Klaus you should go lay down.” 

The two brothers stared at each other, allowing a beat of silence between them. After a moment Klaus flicked his eyes into the corner of the room, and Diego wondered who he was seeing there. As children he’d sometimes mentioned women in the kitchen, women with aprons and crushed skulls. 

Broken necks.

“I don’t want to.” Klaus said finally, picking at his cuticles as he spoke, eyes resting anywhere but on Diego. He had the same look as he’d had at Diego’s door two hours ago, the one that still made him seem so _so_ small.

It was a sharp contrast to his usual larger-than-life personality. 

Without Ben it was probably just Klaus and his ghosts both literal and figurative. Or maybe it was just Klaus. 

Diego wondered which alternative Klaus considered to be worse.

“Come hang out in my room then.” Diego suggested “You can chill on the bed, I was working on something up there anyway.” 

Klaus looked unconvinced. 

“C-come on. I’m not sleeping either way.” 


	2. Klaus and Diego (and the Conspicuous Lack of Ben)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had--How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?--Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light? 
> 
> Left Klaus alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got sadder than I intended

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Klaus allowed himself to be led upstairs by Diego. They abandoned their snacks on the desk before Klaus sat on the bed, saying nothing as Diego wrapped the comforter around his shoulders like the mother hen that he was.

As his brother marched off to find the thermometer Klaus allowed himself to roll his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest as he realized that Ben was no longer around to comment on his brattiness.

He hunched into himself, scooting back to where the bed met the wall and curled up. 

Earlier—when it had still been afternoon—Klaus had noticed something off. He’d been tired, even more so than usual, and achy. It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had-

How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?

Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light? 

Left Klaus alone.

He knew it wasn’t fair to blame Ben for that. He’d had no obligation to stay, and in leaving he’d saved them all.

The comforter fell from his shoulders and Klaus made no effort to pick it back up. Sweat beaded at his temples and although the blanket had lent a feeling of security it had also added an oppressive heat that he could do without. Klaus curled up tighter, and stayed like that until he heard the return of Diego’s footsteps against the hardwood.

His head hurt. 

With a slow exhale he leaned back until the back of his head hit the bedroom wall with an audible _klunk_. Outside the door Diego’s footsteps paused for a moment before the door opened and Klaus heard his brother enter the room. 

“You okay?” He asked, awkward concern lacing his voice. Klaus was suddenly reminded of all of the times that Diego had seen him in withdrawal, and the times that he’d let him into his apartment high as a kite to feed him and make sure that he had somewhere warm to sleep.

“You know how you said I look terrible Di?” As he spoke Klaus uncurled, wincing at the dull ache that seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of his bones.

“Yeah?” Diego didn’t really sound as though he was paying attention to Klaus’s words as he moved towards his brother and pulled the blanket up to cover his bony shoulders again. 

“I feel terrible. Like, Diego, my _skeleton_ hurts.” It’s a dramatic statement, theatrical, but not inaccurate, and if Klaus’s voice had a little bit of whine to it he was grateful to Diego for choosing not to mention it.

Yet. 

He probably wouldn’t be able to push his luck too far before Diego got frustrated and kicked him out. 

Because of this looming possibility Klaus didn’t resist the comforter’s hot heavy weight across his back, and he opened his mouth obediently to take the offered glass thermometer without complaint.

“Keep that there and don’t move for a while.” Diego instructed. 

Klaus merely nodded in response, dropping his eyes to the floor and resting them of the knife-marked hardwood and settled in to wait. 

After a few moments of watching Klaus carefully Diego shrugged, pulling a cell phone from his pocket and fumbling a little before setting a timer. The phone was unfamiliar and Diego’s hands seemed too big for it. There was no case and the metal and glass glittered under the low light, marked by Diego’s fingerprints.

Klaus figured that he must have bought it sometime after their return. Most of them had stuck to the house, too shell shocked to do more than wander hollow-eyed around the academy, but none of them were locked in.

He and Allison had left that day for groceries, and Klaus assumed that Diego and Vanya had gone to their respective apartments at some point. Vanya’s room now held a duffle bag full of slacks and loose button-up shirts. Diego had a new cell phone. 

Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for Diego to get rid of it again. 

As his brother lost himself to thought Diego produced an embroidery hoop from under the pillow and dropped into the desk chair a few feet away from the bed. Klaus watched as he crossed a leg and immediately set to work, untangling the thread that had become knotted to itself at some point in the project’s time hidden underneath the pillow.

The back of Klaus’s neck tickled as a bead of sweat ran down the heated skin. He twitched but didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth, didn’t push his luck. Diego had never been a cruel person—callous perhaps, no one in their family had ever had the chance to develop an appropriate view of the value of human life—but Klaus had exhausted his patience before, and tonight Klaus’s own bedroom was so very empty.

In the days since their return, nearly a week now, his room had remained so very empty.

Klaus had slept in fits and starts, on couches and armchairs throughout the academy, once curled up in his own wardrobe. He had left the door open, still too spooked by small spaces to tolerate the illusion of being locked in.

The most rest he’d gotten in a stretch had been when he had Vanya had settled into the sitting room and watched cartoons the night before. She’d sat with him for an entire afternoon and evening, only urging him up to his room well past midnight. 

Klaus was grateful to her for the time she’d given him. Goodness knew that he hadn’t been the best company. 

Three minutes passed over what felt like an eternity. 

Diego cross-stitched, wordlessly pushing a thick needle through cotton cloth on his embroidery hoop. Klaus couldn’t tell what he was making, but the thread was a deep autumnal orange. It made him think of falling leaves and a particularly ugly sweatshirt he’d once owned.

Three minutes passed and Diego’s phone vibrated to remind them both of the reason for Klaus’s forced silence.

He grimaced as he drew the thermometer from Klaus’s mouth, reading the device before giving it a quick shake and laying it aside. Klaus closed his eyes, and listened to the clink of glass on the wood of Diego’s bedside table. It was the sort of sound that Vanya might have liked. 

When they’d been children, Vanya had had a habit of listening to things and declaring whether or not she had liked the sound. 

Klaus barely remembered their childhood. 

A combination of trauma, substance abuse, and repeated head injury had all but erased everything but the starkest memories. There were a few things that stuck out in his mind, usually sounds and smells. Some emotions. 

He remembered Reginald towering over him, gesturing violently with his cane as he yelled. 

He remembered Vanya’s high pitched voice piping up after Luther had dropped a dumbbell on the hardwood floor, mentioning that she’d _absolutely hated that noise_. He remembered the smell of Ben’s books, and how he and Five had curled up together in the library to read together. He remembered trying and failing to hide behind Diego during training sessions, and Diego letting him. 

“101.5” Diego interrupted, dragging his brother back into the present. “Not great bro.”

Klaus didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes closed as he leaned back and _klunked_ back against the wall.

“I’ve been worse.” He’d been much worse.

The final withdrawal, in his benefactor’s gorgeous private guest cottage, had been the worst. His heartbeat had skyrocketed and he’d locked himself in the bathroom as his familiar ghosts twisted and morphed in chemical induced delirium. Between the tachycardia and the sheer electrolyte imbalance he’d experienced Ben had told him that he was lucky his heart hadn’t given out. 

Klaus wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t. 

For all that he whined to Diego a run of the mill fever wasn’t really enough to shake him. If Ben had been with him they would have holed up in Klaus’s room and rode it out, only venturing out for water and the restroom. 

But Ben wasn’t with him anymore.

Maybe Diego would let him stay. Klaus didn’t think he’d ever be ready to go back into his room and face the emptiness. 

He wondered if he should go out and find someone to sleep with, either a partner or a one night stand to keep him company for however long they’d have him. He’d done so before, in order to keep a roof over his head, especially during the winter. Unfortunately partners usually found him grating and Klaus bored easily. He usually hadn’t stayed anywhere for more than a week or so. 

Not until he met Dave. In all their time pressed in against each other in the thick humid jungle they hadn’t gotten tired of one another. 

Klaus felt himself slide further down the wall, but made no move to push himself into a more comfortable position. He was too tired—and too inclined to be dramatic—to do anything but flop around pathetically. 

Somewhere above him he heard Diego groan in exasperation. 

That was all the warning that Klaus received before Diego grabbed him by the armpits and physically hoisted him into a more typical supine position. The movement hurt his shoulders but his neck felt better, if it hadn't been for the shock Klaus might have called it a fair trade off. As it was he whined indignantly and pushed his face into the pillow. 

“You’re so mean Diego.”

But he slept, and Diego stayed.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was light out when Klaus drifted back to consciousness, wrapped in Diego’s comforter and feeling like total garbage. 

Everything ached, and he was _cold_. Colder than he should reasonably be, even after wandering around in the rain in early april. 

He was withdrawal cold. 

Midnight in January cold. 

Skipping meals and failing to sleep for a week at a time after stopping the apocalypse cold. 

And as if his body was adding insult to injury his throat hurt. The first thing that he did after sitting up in the bed was launch into a coughing fit that rocked his frame as he braced himself against the wall. 

He wanted a hit.

A drink.

Something. 

He’d already fallen head first off the wagon, flung into the metaphorical gutter by Dave’s fist. Throughout the entire apocalyptic disaster in the sixties he’d clung to a heavy flask, and even after getting through and getting back he’d poured himself back into a bottle. 

The decision to just _stop_ cold turkey had come when he’d been alone in his room the night after. 

It had just been so _empty_ . The ghosts had still been muted by the alcohol in his system and Ben was just _gone_.

As though he’d been dead since they were teenagers.

There wasn’t even a keepsake to hold onto to memorialize all those years they’d spent together. Klaus couldn’t clutch to his brother’s stupid black hoodie and cry it out, he had no dog tags from Ben. 

Klaus wished that he did.

The only thing he had left from Ben was his memory, his brother’s voice constantly echoing in the back of his head; snarking, gossiping, urging him to stay clean.

Urging Klaus to be _better_.

And alone in his room—surrounded by hidden pills and razor blades and miniature bottles pushed into vents and stuffed animals, and the crevice beneath the boards of his wardrobe—Klaus had decided that he was going to be better. 

For Ben. 

But he didn’t feel better. Sleep had evaded him, food was incidental, he wandered the academy like a ghoul interacting with his siblings when they happened upon him. And now he was curled up on Diego’s bed as his body broke from being pushed too far. He wanted to be numb again. 

He was coughing when Diego stomped into the room and immediately moved to steady Klaus, sitting beside him on the twin bed and wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders. Klaus leaned into the touch, and slowed his breathing trying desperately not to irritate his throat. 

Every cough made the burning sensation worse. 

Klaus sat there, tensed against Diego’s chest until he felt something cold tap against his face. A bottle of water.

“Drink this.” Diego urged, handing him the bottle. It was freezing, and Klaus shivered, his fingers knocking beads of condensation loose to drip and sink into the duvet cover. 

He drank anyway. The cool water felt good on his burning throat even as he shivered.

While he swallowed Klaus felt Diego cover him with the blanket yet again. Bless his brother’s stubborn heart. 

“Thanks.” He said as he drew the comforter closer. 

Diego nodded, looking awkward.

“What time is it?” Klaus asked, taking another draw from the bottle. Other than the daylight that streamed in through Diego’s open curtains Klaus had lost all sense of time. Exhaustion still pushed heavily upon him but it offered no real clue as to how long he had spelt. 

“Around noon.” Diego replied. His expression concerned but otherwise impassive.

Klaus hummed into the bottle, pleased. It had been a long time since he’d slept for so long. If he’d dreamed he didn’t remember the nightmares, only the constant comfort of his brother’s presence. 

A finished cross stitch lay flat on the bedside table. The deep orange thread had been pulled and poked until it formed an image of boxing gloves laying against the white cotton. Below the image Diego had stitched the words _protect your own_ in blocky angular font. 

It was fitting. 

Diego had always been the first one to step up and defend his siblings.

“Thank you.” Klaus said. He was grateful to Diego, not only for taking care of him through the night, but for the years and years of dragging Klaus off of the streets into whatever safety Diego could provide. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever properly thanked his brother for that/

He doubted that a quick thanks while high off of his ass would count. 

Diego looked at him expectantly and Klaus realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that he’d probably overstayed his welcome. Not even Diego could take care of him forever. He’d gotten through the night and that would have to be enough.

“Right.” Klaus said, capping the water bottle and standing shakily, holding to Diego’s shoulder as his brother rose with him. “Thanks” 

Again.

“I’m gonna get out of your hair now, give you your room back etcetera.” Flippant mask firmly in place Klaus wobbled towards the door, feeling dizzy enough to have been drunk, and awful enough to be hungover. Diego looked like he wanted to argue but even unsteady as he was, Klaus was quick; he was out the door before his brother was able to stumble over his first syllable.

Internally Klaus winced, he hadn’t meant to upset Diego. 

He barely made it back to his own bed before collapsing into the cold sheets. A few ghosts murmured in the shadows of the wardrobe, one stared at him from the window, pressing a hand to the glass as if she couldn’t pass right through it if she were so inclined.

With a groan Klaus rolled over and ignored them, content to accept their presence as long as they kept the noise to a minimum. 

He shivered against the chilly bed linens and pulled the blanket up over his head, curling into the smallest ball he couldn manage. It was unlikely that he’d manage to go back to sleep, but Klaus wasn’t sure what else he could do. The long drafty halls of the academy carried his siblings voices from the common areas and he was sure that they all had better things to do than keep him company, he’d be no fun anyway.

As he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the chill and ache of his fever Klaus wondered what Ben would be saying to him now.

He’d probably call him self-destructive.

 _God_ he missed him.

A sudden sob shook his chest and Klaus was so stunned that it took a moment for him to realize that he was crying. He hadn’t cried since those first few hours after Ben had gone.

He’d sobbed through the car ride away from the CIA building as Vanya had explained what had happened from the passenger seat, and curled up in the dark of Elliot’s bedroom to bawl himself into exhaustion. 

And then he’d stopped.

The world had been ending, the entirety of the Commission had shown up to exterminate his family, and Klaus hadn’t had time to lay around and cry.

But now Klaus was crying again. 

He recalled his wish for a keepsake, for something to hold on to. Across the hallway from the bedroom where he currently laid was a room full of Ben’s possessions. A museum full of artifacts that had been left to gather dust for seventeen years. 

He thought of sitting up, of standing and walking across the hall to Ben’s room, to find something, but his strength was gone. 

Instead Klaus buried himself deeper into the blankets and allowed himself to weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love Diego and I wanted him and Klaus to hug it out, but it didn't happen. Maybe further into the series.

**Author's Note:**

> I am far too invested in Klaus and Diego's dynamic  
> Stay tuned for chapter two where Klaus actually expresses his grief instead of just implying it!


End file.
